The estate had never felt so still.
The aftermath of the breach had sunk into the bones of the mansion like a slow, suffocating fog. Everywhere Tricia turned, she felt it: the silence behind doors that used to hum with activity, the guarded glances of staff who once met her eyes with polite smiles, the distant echo of reinforced boots on marble floors.
And Christopher…
He hadn’t left her side since the explosion.
Not really.
Even when he stepped into meetings, war rooms, or quiet corners to issue orders, she could feel his presence like a second heartbeat. Watching. Waiting. Guarding.
But what Tricia couldn’t tell—what unsettled her more than the blast—was whether he was protecting her… or watching her.
That morning, she stood alone in the library with sunlight pooling across the fl
